


Cooperation

by Oryx_Gazella



Category: Don't Hug Me I'm Scared (Short Film)
Genre: DHMIS, F/M, Padlock, this ones unfriendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oryx_Gazella/pseuds/Oryx_Gazella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony needs Paige's help with a clock.  He's not happy about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cooperation

**Author's Note:**

> WOW I DIDNT EXPECT THIS ONE TO GET THIS LONG  
> THATS WHAT I GET FOR PUTTING TWO IDEAS TOGETHER AGAIN  
> BLOOD AND GORE AND BROKEN BONES ARE BACK BE CAREFUL

Despite his best efforts, no amount of ignoring would make it cease to exist; and despite his best efforts, the only solution he kept coming to was _asking for_ _help_.

Specifically, asking… _Paige_ for help.

His back turned to it, the grandfather clock’s front panel leaned against the workshop’s wall.  It was still in a miserable state, in stark contrast to the rest of the clock, which he had finished repairing hours ago.  The outer case had been easy to restore, and all the mechanical components now ran perfectly smoothly, but this…

The panel had once displayed an ornately painted pattern, the brilliant hues and gold leaf still barely visible in some places, but for the most part the paint was hopelessly worn off.  Clock restoration, he was a master at; art restoration, not so much.  He _could_ just replace the panel, considering most of the insides of the clock were pieced together from other models as it is.  But going out and searching for another panel that fit so perfectly when he already had one right here would be a waste of time.  

Tony also disliked the idea of repainting it a matching flat color or stripping the paint and just staining the wood; it had been well-made, clearly built with passion, and destroying that vision seemed disrespectful.  But every time he tried to mix paint it seemed like the colors were off.  Every time he raised a brush to the wood, the pattern disappeared when he tried to find a place to start.  He knew a wrong move would obscure the faded image further, and make the restoration process that much more difficult.  After a lot of denial, he had to concede that Paige was the only person who could confidently complete this.  The question was, _would_ she?

If she even agreed to fix it to his face, what would keep her from purposely destroying the panel out of spite once he handed it over?  And just _asking_ her for help was entirely different problem.  He barely wanted to admit to _himself_ that he needed her to help with a _clock_ , how was he supposed to admit it to _her_?

Tony stood up, exhaling harshly.  Nothing would get done if he just kept sitting around _waiting_.  He grabbed for the panel, hastily moving but picking it up delicately.  He made his way out of the workshop and to the stairs, ignoring the three warily leaning over to watch him from the living room.  He didn’t bother to hide his presence while approaching her room; better for Paige to know he was here, or else she’d think he was coming to kill her.

His hand jerked to a stop just over the doorknob; no.   He pulled away, fingers curling loosely.  Tony winced at his own actions, and _knocked_ on the door.  He waited.  Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” Came the muffled, incredulous response.

He…shouldn’t answer that the way he’d like to.

“Do _you_ think I’d knock if I was here for that?”

Silence.  Waiting.

The door cracked open, and Paige peered out from inside.

“What do you want?”  Her eyes narrowed, glaring.

He sighed.  “I…need your help with-”

The door slammed in his face, and the lock clacked.

“Paige I’m serious.”

“If you’re going to poorly construct a trap, at least make your lines believable!”

Tony leaned the panel against the wall directly across from her door. 

“Look, if you won‘t do it, just bring it back.”  He called, turning to leave. 

He left it there, hoping his trust wasn’t misplaced.  He tried to keep himself busy while he waited for her to respond, idly organizing spare clock parts.  He kept alert for any kind of cracking noises from upstairs and for the smell of fire. 

In seventeen minutes, Paige entered the room, the panel held under her arm.  She stood at the doorway, a safe distance away from him; still suspicious.  But she didn’t seem…aggressive.

“So what exactly did you want me to do with it?  Restore it or give you something new?”

“Can you restore it?”

She gave a short laugh “Oh I _can_.  But what’s in it for me?”

 _Of course_.

“What do you want?”

“For you to ask me nicely, to start with.” 

If…it would get her to cooperate then…

“Paige could you _please_ restore it?”

“Now admit you can’t do it yourself.” A wicked smirk crept onto her face. “Admit that _you_ can’t handle fixing a _clock_.”

“…Please help me because I can’t do it.”  

“Because you can’t do _what_ , exactly?  You’re going to have to be specific.”

He couldn’t wait until he was able to cut the life out of her.  “Because I can’t fix this clock.”

She loved the barely restrained hatred in his voice.  “Of course I’ll help you fix this clock dear, all you had to do was ask!” 

Paige left, nearly skipping back to her room.

Tony rubbed at his temples, starting to doubt that sacrificing his pride had been worth it.   He wondered how long it would take her to finish it. 

Five hours and thirty-four minutes passed; it was late, but Tony couldn’t sleep.  He was reading in the living room when Paige reappeared, little splotches of paint on her face and specks of gold on her fingertips. 

“Come see.”  She said, not waiting for his reaction to return to her room.

He followed her up the stairs, unable to shake the concern that she ruined it, and was just bringing him upstairs to taunt him.

“It wasn’t nearly as bad as I had thought.  Once I got it under the light, the residual image was _much_ clearer.”   She seemed to mostly be talking to herself.  “Matching the colors was easy; taking the fading into account, the original used mostly just simple blends of paints, and then gold leaf to accent.” 

Paige pushed her door open, gesturing for him to enter first.

The panel sat on her easel, a bright white light angled onto it.  It looked… _perfect_.  He stepped toward it, amazed. 

“It’s still wet, so don’t touch it.” 

“I- thank you, Paige.” 

She smiled, this time not mocking or cruel, but genuine.  “You’re welcome.  I’ll bring it downstairs tomorrow when it’s dry.”

Now assured that the panel was safe, Tony was able to sleep soundly, if not a bit more impatiently than usual.  

Morning came, and Paige brought the last missing part into the workshop at 11:23.  She left it there, not terribly interested in watching him fit it back to the rest of the clock. 

            He installed the panel onto the case, _finally_ completing the tall clock’s appearance.  He particularly liked this one; it’d be moved into the living room later today, after its performance could be monitored for a bit longer. 

            Paige wandered in, wanting to see the results.  She stood in front of the clock, examining it from a few feet away.  Her head tilted to the side.

            “Hmm, you know, it _does_ look nice.  It wouldn’t look nearly as good without my help, though.”

            Tony stood up, and stood behind her.  “I’m grateful.”

            “You should-“

            The sword slammed through her to up the hilt with such force that her feet bounced off the ground, just as he wrapped an arm around her upper body to keep her in place. 

            Paige tried to gasp, her breath catching in her throat from the sudden pain.  Her legs went limp under her; her spine had been cut through. 

            Tony gave her back a shove with one hand, jerking the blade out of her and sending her collapsing facedown to the floor with a choked, coughing noise.  

            He sat back down at the desk, and set to work cleaning the blood off his sword.  Paige’s breath came trembling and shallow from the floor, head raising to give Tony the most hateful glare she could manage. 

            Tony smirked down at her as her expression faltered, body shaking from the effort of keeping her head up.   She fell back to the floor, letting out a near-silent pained whimper. 

It took her four minutes and fifteen seconds to completely bleed out.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Paige shuddered as she woke up.  She tried to move around, but her body felt numb; she was still technically dead.  Her arms wouldn’t move, and her shoulders felt…wrong.  Hollow somehow. 

            Blinking in the midday light, wondering what time it-.

            _That fucking asshole_.

            Her eyes snapped open as what had happened came flooding back, jolting her awareness back.  All she could see in front of her were branches.  She looked up; her arms were bound at the wrist around a thick tree limb.  She looked down; the ground was about twenty feet below her, her legs dangling in the air.  She noticed four odd black shapes splayed out on the ground, lying haphazardly around in the dead leaves.

            Her shoulders had long since dislocated, unable to mend themselves from the weight of her hanging body.  She shifted around, kicking her legs, thankful for the lack of pain that came with still being dead.  The ropes were too tight to wriggle out of.  Fine.

            Ink seeped from her wrists, thick and black and caustic. 

            Paige simply hung there, waiting for the rope to fray and fail.  She didn’t bother bracing herself; the fall wouldn’t hurt, and there was no way to keep her bones from breaking when she hit anyway.

            The fibers gave way and Paige fell.  The rush of the drop didn’t convince her heart to beat, and the impact came with ugly cracking sounds but no actual sensation.

            She lay there, seething with anger as her body knit back together.  Tony had the fucking _nerve_ to kill her after she helped him.  And kill her in such a _boring_ way; no chase, no traps, no games, just one unavoidable attack.  If he thought she’d just overlook this, he was so much more foolish than she could have anticipated. 

            While she waited for her limbs to respond again, she remembered the unusual shapes littering the ground.  Paige looked around, hoping one was close enough to identify.

            Crows.

            Dead crows were scattered all over.  So she was poisonous; to crows at least.  Interesting.  She’d have to see how they liked Tony, then.

            Paige tried to get her bearings from her position on the ground.  These were the woods behind the house, but how far in was she?  Nothing looked recognizable.  She should’ve taken advantage of being high in the trees when she had the chance.

            Soon her muscles responded and she was able to get up.  Fortunately it was still light out, and she eventually found a recognizable expanse of forest. 

            Paige slammed the door open.  She stormed into the house, noting the clear lack of that smug bastard. 

            “ _Where is he_ ” she demanded, entering the kitchen where Harry was sitting. 

            “I- You mean Tony?  He uh- He went out to find something in town, about an hour ago.”  Harry tensed, afraid she was going to take her anger out on him in Tony’s place.

            The fear wasn’t misplaced; Paige briefly considered it.  But no, wasting her anger on her _dear friend_ here would lessen it for Tony when he returned.  She didn’t stop Harry from getting up and slinking past her like she was a wild animal.  He scurried upstairs, probably to warn the others to stay out of her way.

            What to do now, though?  She paced into the living room, and flopped onto the armchair.  Her arms ached, life starting to return to her and the residual pain of hours of dislocation returning with it.  Paige leaned her head back, setting her thoughts to devising a way to deal with Tony. 

            That noise.

            That ugly, constant noise.  It was never here before, not this loud, anyway.

            She opened her eyes and looked towards it.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Robin returned home from a morning shift at work.  He and Harry both worked full time, but today Harry had the day off.  Manny had come home from school about an hour ago.

            He stopped dead in his tracks when he opened the door to living room.  A huge grandfather clock was lying…all over the floor.  Someone- … _Paige_ had hacked it to pieces.  Even the mechanical parts were bent and dented and thrown across the room.

            So Tony was not home right now.

            And Robin didn’t want to be around when he did get home.

            He ran upstairs, not wanting to yell in case Paige was still on the warpath.  He had to get everyone out before Tony found the destroyed clock.

            Robin burst into his room, currently home to a futon and a pile of Harry’s possessions ever since Paige had taken over Harry’s room. 

            Harry jumped, startled, and sat up from his makeshift bed. 

            “What’s wrong?”

            “We have to leave.  Have you been downstairs today?”

            “Like 45 minutes ago, why?  What happened?  Is Manny okay?”  Harry followed behind Robin, nervous now.  They hastily left the room, heading to Manny’s.

            “I hope so-“ he opened the door,  relieved to find Manny just as clueless as his friend, and waved him to follow them, quickly heading downstairs.  “Tony’s about to flip; Paige destroyed that clock he’s been working on for like a week.  Didn’t you hear her breaking it?” They half ran down the stairs, skipping steps.

            “There was a lot of banging and cracking, but you know that could’ve been _anything_.”  They crossed the kitchen, heading for the front door.

             “We need to leave before Tony gets here; just let them fight it out for a few hours.  I don’t think he’d be picky about-”

            Tony’s wasn’t facing them; he was completely still, staring down at the splintered wood and scattered metal. 

            Robin took a step back.

            Tony’s head turned.

            Harry and Manny bolted nosily, upstairs, out the back door, Robin didn’t know; Tony had already grabbed him.

            His back slammed against the wall, held well off the ground by the hand around his throat, fingers digging in hard.  Robin grabbed at the wrist by reflex, trying uselessly to pull it away.  The cold metal of a sword pressed into his chest, already drawing blood.

            “ _Which one of you did this”_ Tony hissed, his face close to Robin’s, eyes wild with rage.

            “Non-none of us why would we do it we don’t want-” The grip on his throat tightened and cut off his words.  Robin’s vision started going dark, and his struggling weakened.

 

 

* * *

 

 

           

            Paige stood up in the garden, lightly dusting the soil off her hands.  She had finished weeding out a space and planting a set of lily-of-the-valley pips.  Soon she’d have a crop of deadly berries to look forward to.

            She headed back inside, not bothering to knock the dirt and mud off herself.  There was a lot of noise coming from the living room; Tony must be back.

            Disappointed she missed his initial reaction, Paige strolled toward the commotion to see her results.

            “Aww, don’t you like my redecorating?”  She called to Tony, about to impale their roommate.

            His head whipped toward her.  He looked…surprised.  Not even angry.  He also didn’t quite seem to be looking _at_ her. 

            “…You’re…covered in dirt.  You tracked dirt all over the house.”

            Paige looked behind her.  She shrugged, giving a slight nod.

            Robin dropped to the floor, gasping desperately and holding onto his throat.  Tony approached Paige. 

            She stood her ground.  It was her turn, so he wouldn’t-

            Paige’s head cracked off the wall with blinding, colorful flashes of light, leaving her too dazed to fight when he picked her up and tossed her roughly over his shoulder. 

            She regained her senses quickly, beginning to punch at his back as he crossed the kitchen into the hallway.

            “Hey!  Put me down, asshole!  I get to start it this time!”  she snapped, trying to punch the back of his head.  “I don’t care how pissy you are about your stupid clock, it’s not your _turn_!”

            He didn’t respond, and his grip didn’t loosen at all.  Where was he going?

            Tony kicked open the second door in the hallway, the laundry room.

            “Tony what are you _doing_?”  She was starting to get nervous now.

            She heard the lid to the washing machine clatter open.  It hit her.

            “ _Tony_?  Tony listen don’t- was just mad that you-“

            She was pulled off his shoulder, and thrown onto the ground.  He grabbed one of her wrists before she could clamber away from him. 

            A blade slid across her forearm, and Paige was jerked up to her feet before she could react, slammed against the edge of the washing machine.  Tony shoved Paige’s upper body into the machine, unaffected by her kicking as her legs were lifted off the ground.

            A hand on the back of her head kept her face pressed against the cold metal basket, but it was clear her whole body wouldn’t fit.  Her arm was wrapped around the agitator in the center, and-

            Her arm _cracked_ as Tony forced her hips into the machine.  He let go of her head now, using both hands to quickly shove her legs inside.

            Paige panicked, trying desperately to climb up before he managed to shut the lid.  Blinding pain struck her as she put weight on her broken arm, her frantic effort at moving around only serving to pull her legs in enough to let Tony slam the top closed, cutting off any light.

            She was able to reach up and push at the lid with her unbroken but bleeding arm, but it refused to open.  Her legs were bent at an awful angle, threatening to break or at least tear some tendon. 

            A clicking noise.  A rumbling noise.  She heard an odd hissing, and felt water hitting her, hot enough to make her wince.

            “ _Tony listen I’m sorry please don’t do this_ ” her voice echoed slightly in the metal cylinder, the urgency in it serving only to unnerve her more.  _She hated drowning_.  She hated drowning more than any other death she’d experienced; he knew that.  “I’ll help you rebuild another one just let me _out_ ” She still had space to breathe, but it felt like she wasn’t getting any air. 

 _Paige was scared_. 

The water kept rising, soaking into her clothes and painfully hot.  She tried to keep her cut arm up out of the water, but soon couldn’t, the shock from injuries making her too weak to maintain that contortion. 

The water stopped rising just below her chin.  Her neck was already craned up painfully, determined to keep breathing. 

The agitator her body was wrapped around jerked.  It made a harsh grinding noise, but still moved enough to tear something in her legs.  Paige cried out, writhing in agony.  Water splashed up closer to her face with the next strained movement of the washing machine, bringing more pain and a snapping noise; from where, she didn’t even know any more.

Paige’s breath came fast and shallow, and it was inevitable that she got a mouthful of water as the machine attempted to do its job.  She could feel herself slipping closer to the water level.  She coughed, inhaling more liquid when she tried to gasp in air.  Pain wracked her body with every forced movement.

            Her lungs burned as they tried to hack up the water flooding into them.  She weakly scratched at the lid again, or what she guessed was the lid.  No response.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

            Tony sat on top of the struggling washing machine, not paying much attention to the noises coming from inside it. 

            His thoughts were preoccupied with the ruined clock.  It was going to take so long to find a new one that looked as nice and still in as workable condition.  He frequented the nearby antique stores, and knew what kind of stock they had already.  He’d have to _wait_ until they got something new in, and even then he’d have to wait until they got something _good_ in.  That meant checking every shop around, on a regular basis, for who knows _how_ long. 

 Honestly he didn’t expect Paige would destroy the clock.  She had put work into it was well, so he assumed it’d be safe.  

Soon he became aware of Paige’s silence, the noises being replaced by the irregular, sick-sounding rumbling of the washing machine.  That soon quieted as well, the machinery coming to a grinding stop as it gave up.

Tony got off the top, and opened the lid.

The water inside was murky with blood, patches of pink foam floating on top.  A few locks of hair were visible, as well as one limp hand sticking up out of the water.

Tony grabbed the hand, pulling.  It was oddly loose, and he felt bones clicking against one another inside her arm.  He kept pulling, her head appearing out of the water and lolling lifelessly as he yanked on her shoulders.  Paige’s broken body took some effort to untangle and pull out, her dress stained a splotchy red.  More muffled cracking noises from her legs, as he dragged her out, contemplating what to do with her.  He felt dampness through his sleeves, and he let go, realizing with disgust that he had just ruined his gloves and probably more of his clothing.  Paige tumbled the rest of the way to the floor and laid there, limbs bent in places without natural joints.  

He stared down at her, frowning at the pinkish water seeping out of her clothes and hair to puddle around her.

“You’re even more of a mess than before” he muttered.

 

                          

**Author's Note:**

> I CLIMBED HALFWAY INTO A WASHING MACHINE FOR THIS FIC


End file.
